


Claustrophobia

by fencingfox



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Caught, Claustrophobia, F/M, Turbolift, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 17:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20456750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencingfox/pseuds/fencingfox
Summary: Tom hasneverbeen good in small spaces. Every time he thinks about it, he wonders how he managed to become a pilot in the first place. He isn't much better when trapped in an unmoving turbolift with a certain cobra-like chief engineer, but he does find her presence comforting.





	Claustrophobia

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [There’s a Bathroom on the Right](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14173968) by [Byrcca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Byrcca). 

> Tom's pain makes me laugh. Hope you laugh too. Don't mind me; I'm just madly writing and posting before school starts up. c:

* * *

Tom grunts as he tries prying the turbolift doors apart. If he doesn't get out of here soon, he's going to die. He's sure of it. He feels a hand, B'Elanna's hand, on his shoulder. 

"It's no use. If I couldn't get them, there's no way you will." He vaguely notes that at another time, her comment on his strength would make him prickle. 

"Maybe if we do it together?" She sighs, but presses her back against his and pushes the other side of the doors. He feels her somewhat prominent spinal ridges dig into his shoulder blade. Finally they stop torturing the reluctant door. He leans against the back of the turbolift, feeling like the walls are caving in on him. He holds his hands out to either side to touch the walls to ensure they are not moving and screams at the ceiling as if his voice alone can make the turbolift double in size. Tom looks at B'Elanna who regards him from near the door surprisingly calm given his outburst. She already is down to a spaghetti strap tank top and shorts. He is shirtless in cargo pants. Once the turbolift stopped moving and their combined heat warmed up the small space—_no, don't think that_—the temperature rose significantly. 

"Are you _claustrophobic_, Tom?" _Damn, my secret's out. Not that it wouldn't have happened eventually...._ He nods. She shakes her head. "How? You're a pilot on a spaceship in the middle of the Delta Quadrant for Pete's sake." 

"I dunno. I just am okay." He shoots a seething look at her. He isn't in the mood to play 'prod my soul and see what happens'. 

"Don't worry, Tom. Someone's bound to notice when you don't show up for your shift." He freezes. 

"I'm off today. You?" He asks hopefully, but he already knows the answer from the way she had said 'your shift'. 

"Off 'til Gamma tomorrow." She sinks to a seated position in front of Tom. 

"Damn," he curses under his breath. "I don't go back until Delta tomorrow." She draws in a sharp breath. He had been hoping that she was just leaving the holodeck or something to get dressed into uniform. 

"Sit down, Tom. It looks like we'll be here a while." He sits down, if only to brace his legs against the walls instead. He figures his legs are better equipped to stop a cave-in than his hands. What he wouldn't give for a shift at Sick Bay right about now. The Doc would be sure to report him as soon as he was a few nanoseconds late. He'd been meaning to turn back the Doctor's internal clock so that he'd have a little more leeway but sighs when he realizes he won't be getting to that anytime soon. _Damn._ And now he's facing his worst nightmare; he'd actually had it a few times. He supposes it can't be as bad. In his nightmares he was always alone and there was disembodied laughter and the turbolift shrank until he could only fit curled into a ball. He always woke up with sharp back pain when that happened. 

"Earth to Tom." Tom snaps back to his dim reality, wondering how long B'Elanna has been trying to get his attention. 

"What?" He can feel his chest rising and falling quickly. If he doesn't calm down soon, he'll hyperventilate. Maybe even pass out. It has happened to him before. He urges himself to breath slower against the sharp pressure he notes in his chest. It feels like someone has their hands wrapped around each of his lungs and is squeezing them hard. He can't get enough air into himself. Before B'Elanna can answer him, he starts to panic. _I'm going to suffocate!_ His eyes dart around the turbolift. They tell him the walls are closing in. His medical training tell him that suffocating is a hell of a way to go. It's painful and completely undignified once he reaches the gasping desperately for air phase. He is dimly aware of B'Elanna shifting to soothe him. Her hands on his chest only increase the pressure he feels. He shifts away and she mercifully stops touching him. He vaguely hears a scream, his own, and shuts his eyes. _Nonononono._ If he can't see the walls closing in, then he can't know that they are. Tom then feels a different pressure. He opens his eyes to see B'Elanna's lips crushed against his. Her eyes are also open and as soon as she sees him open his, she backs away, resting her butt on her heels. 

"Better?" Tom takes a few sobering breaths and nods his head. 

"Yeah, thank you." 

"Don't mention it." She shoots him _the look_. His resolve cowers against it. "I mean it. Not a word to a living soul or I'll lock you up in a turbolift myself." He doesn't want that to happen. He busies himself with studying her expression. He thinks he sees a blush that wasn't there a few moments ago. Maybe it was the heat. Hell, he's sure he's flush from that and his panic attack too. 

"Trust me I won't." He smirks. His head really felt better already. Talking to B'Elanna took his mind off their situation. "Although, I can't promise I won't fake another panic attack so you'll kiss me again." She shifts so that her legs are folded to her side and she uses the new position to kick his calf hard and then retracts her leg like nothing happened. 

"Don't test me. I'll let you faint next time." There's something in her voice that tips her hand to him. He wonders if she enjoyed their short kiss. 

"You wouldn't." 

"Oh, I would, Paris." She says this with a sneer. He thinks—_no, it can't be_—that she looks and sounds playful though. He mulls over their previous encounters. _Has she ever acted like she likes me before?_ He can't pin anything overt, but he has the notion that maybe she's like a middle schooler where a well-worded jive is equivalent to flirting. That makes him grin stupidly. _If that's the case, she's probably upset I haven't bedded her yet._ "What's so funny? 'Cause it sure as hell isn't this turbolift." He winces. _No, it's not this turbolift._ But he doesn't want to tell her his thought process. She'll probably wring his neck for it. He likes his neck, thank you very much. 

"Just a funny thing Harry said." She scoffs. 

"Liar." _Damn._ He looks at her eyes, pleading with them for her not to press him. They don't listen. "Tell me what's so funny." 

"You'll kill me for it." Her eyebrows rise and her eyes widen slightly. 

"I promise I won't kill you. But I might break a few bones." 

"So long as it isn't my clavicle, then we're good." She glares at his not so discreet suggestion. 

"I won't break your clavicle, oh virtuous and noble Tom." He moves his hands from his knees to between his legs, protecting a particular package that he holds very dear and near to his heart. He sees that she notices. Her eyes follow his hands to their new place. Whether she means to or not, she licks her lips. Tom's groin stirs at the expression, thinking it to mean that she wants a taste of him. He's glad for how his hands hide the beginnings of an erection because the light color of his cargo pants do little to hide the slight tent there. 

"There was something about your voice earlier. It made me wonder if you've been flirting with me like a middle schooler this whole time when you call me names." He doesn't tell her his estimate that if so, she expected him to bed her by now. He watches the emotions flit across her delicate features. First shock, then anger, and then finally disgust. He thinks he catches her look longingly at his lips between anger and disgust but quickly dismisses it as his claustrophobic mind playing tricks on him when she turns to lean against the bulkhead at his right side. His foot rests against her hip. She's warm. He wiggles his socked foot. She slaps at it, annoyed. "Hey!" 

"You started it." _Fine, I'll grant her that._ He begins staring at the door. If he lets his eyesight blur a little, then he can't see the edges of the turbolift. He can almost convince himself he's in a nice roomy quarters where the environmental controls have shorted out. Almost. It isn't long before the painfully familiar headache and chest tightness returns. They bring a friend: acute nausea. He lifts his knees up with a groan and places his head between them. "Tom?" She sounds concerned. He can imagine that she's looking up at him with sympathetic brown eyes. It occurs to him that he has no idea what she looks like that way. He feels her hand rubbing his knee. He looks up at her and offers a weak smile. 

"Nausea. How long do you think it will be before someone finds us?" She scoots next to him. Her soft warmth against his side is somewhat soothing. 

"Oh, I don't know. An hour? A day? I had Vorik running systems checks, he'll probably find out the turbolift is down if someone else doesn't stumble across it first." 

"How do you suppose it broke?" He leans against her solid form. She pushes back but doesn't push him away. _Maybe I aught to act like this all the time. She's so much sweeter this way._ He dismisses the idea. He likes all of B'Elanna, even—_no, especially_—her cobra-like aggression. She shrugs. He feels her shoulders rise and fall next to him and he thinks again about how comforting just her presence is. He could stay like this with her forever if only his nausea subsided. 

"It could be anything. Faulty connections, chronotons, a sick gelpak, bad flying, microscopic meteors...." 

"So you don't know how long it will take to fix it do you?" She shakes her head. 

"No," she says sternly. He feels panic rise again. His breathing quickens. B'Elanna leans away from him to watch him struggle to collect oxygen from the turbolift. _At least the circulation's working. We won't run out of air._ He takes his eyes off her to look at the ceiling instead. Her concern only makes him feel worse right now. He closes his eyes. 

"Can I hold you?" 

"Sure," she sounds puzzled, "if you think that will help." It does. He drapes an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his chest at the same time that he lowers his knees. Her head rests on his chest. Her hands are tucked up against his chest under her chin. Her side curves perfectly against him. Her hair tickles his nose. He uses a hand to smooth it down and then breathes deep. With the incentive of her shampoo—honey and apple—he doesn't have a reason to hyperventilate. 

"Better?" 

"Better," he answers. They stay like this for a long time. Tom isn't sure how long, but he feels B'Elanna shift against him. "Are you okay?" 

"My leg's just asleep." She slips a hand from his chest and he watches her poke at her calf that's against the ground. "Nothing. I need to move." He reluctantly releases her, scared that the nausea, chest tightness and headaches will return. She manages to stand and shake her leg out while holding on to the bulkhead. He tries his best not to think about how nicely her ass jiggles. He groans as his stomach stirs suggestively and tilts his head back to the bulkhead. 

"Something wrong?" 

"Headache." He's glad she doesn't catch his lie. She's too busy shaking the blood back into her leg. When she finishes, she walks over to the middle of the turbolift and nudges one of his legs apart with her foot. "Am I in the way?" He asks without lifting his head or opening his eyes. 

"Open your legs. I'll sit between them so my leg doesn't fall asleep again." She blushes. "Assuming you still need to hold me." He nods and parts his legs. She sits down a few inches from him and uses her hands to scoot backwards. He pulls her closer. When she leans back he winces. 

"Ow, lean forward, B'Elanna. Your ridges are sharp." He thinks that even without the ridges, her spine would press uncomfortably against his pubic bone. 

"Sorry," she mumbles. He expects that she's blushing. He's glad she isn't looking at him because thinking about pubic bones makes him blush too, specifically, thinking about grinding his to hers. 

"Hand me our shirts. They'll make a nice cushion." She leans forward without bending her legs to reach the shirts next to her ankles. Tom's amazed by her flexibility. It turns him on. He loves a flexible woman. _Stop that, Tom! This isn't the time nor the place._ His mind responds with a snarky 'what else are we going to do for hours?' and he wonders if he sounds like this all the time. She presses the shirts behind her and then leans back gingerly. Tom wraps his arms around her stomach and breaths in her scent when she rests her head against his chest. He barely manages to contain the urge to kiss the top of her head just to see what she'll do. He feels like they're lovers. He's shirtless and she's scantily clad. There's only a thin layer—she isn't wearing a bra, he checked when she first shed her shirt—between her skin and his in most places. Their lower legs tangle together so that skin touches skin. Her bare arms rest on top of his own. Her hair tickles his nipples. As he breaths in her smell again, he wonders what shampoo she uses. 

"Gamier. Why?" He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. _It must be the claustrophobia._

"You smell nice. Like honey and apples." 

"Th-Thank you." He senses she doesn't get compliments often. 

"You also feel nice. Warm, strong." She shifts in his arms a little. Her spinal ridges rub against his pubic bone through the shirt cushion. Tom bites back another groan of pleasure. 

"Thanks, Tom, but you don't need to. Flattery will get you nowhere." He smirks beside himself. 

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. I've found myself between many a women's legs with flattery." She laughs. 

"And now you've got one between _your legs_." He squeezes her and pushes his nose in her hair. 

"And what are you going to do about it?" He asks low and husky. _Shit, if she didn't want to kill me before, she definitely will now._ She doesn't do anything for a long time. He thinks maybe he's shocked her too bad. But then she grinds against him _intentionally._ He doesn't bite back the groan. 

"I know what you'd like me to do." She stops moving. "But it isn't going to happen. You're better off with flattery." She relaxes in his arms. He imagines that her eyes are closed. He's sure she can feel his half-erect penis digging into her back but she doesn't move away. 

"You're cute when you're horny." If it's flattery she wants, it's flattery she gets. 

"I am not." 

"Horny?" 

"Cute." He smirks. She must have realized her mistake because she stiffens in his arms a beat later. He rubs his hands down her shoulders and pushes her forward so that he can kiss her neck. She shudders. 

"So you don't deny being horny?" She regains control of her body and digs her spines into his torso. He lets out a sharp gasp. 

"I guess I can't deny that with these." He laughs and continues kissing her neck, moving towards the sides and the back of her ear. 

"You know I don't mean your ridges, B'Elanna." His hand drifts from her waist to between her breasts, not quite ready to touch her there yet. His forearm grazes against her right nipple and he smirks when he feels a hard nub against the underside of his arm. He slides his hand over to that nipple and massages it with his thumb and forefinger. It gets more pert under her tank top. She sighs and relaxes into him. _I've won._ He doesn't recall when this became a competition. He wonders how far she'll let him go. His other hand is already snaking under her shirt to touch the skin of her breast. She leans forward and pull it over her head. She stuffs it between them before she leans back against him. Tom nudges her head to the side so that he has better access to her neck. He alternates kissing, sucking, and nibbling up and down it while his hands go to work on her breasts together. She moans softly as he massages them firmly. Her skin feels soft under his calloused fingers. He wonders if his rough skin is driving her wild yet. She tilts her head back and turns it toward him. He dips his to kiss her gently at first. She begins to demand more and more out of the kiss, eventually going so far as to bite him and make him bleed into her awaiting mouth. 

He hears the door open with dread. They are sitting facing the door. B'Elanna's breasts are only covered by his hands, but it doesn't take a genius to know what they've been up to. Tom breaks their kiss and stares straight up at Ayala. He looks shocked, but he shakes his head, mouths 'hurry', and seems to let the door shut accidently. 

"Damn." Tom hears Ayala swear behind the door. "The crowbar slipped. Chell," that gets them moving in double time. _Shit,_ "help me hold it open." They hear them grunting on the other side of the door as B'Elanna quickly slips her tank top on. It's backwards. She huffs, slips her arms out, spins it, and sticks her arms back through the holes. Tom helps her right her tank top, making sure the hem covers all of her back. She's just lain back against him with his arms around her and he's just plastered his best innocent but nauseous expression to his face when the blue and tan faces of Chell and Ayala peer through the crack they've just made. Ayala seems relieved to see his chief engineer decent. Their turbolift had stopped with about a foot shared between the upper part of the entrance and the lower part of the deck. Chell regards them from above, clearly amused. 

"He's claustrophobic, Chell. Holding me helps. Yank your head out of the gutter before I close it on you," B'Elanna spits through gritted teeth. Tom does his best to hold back his affection for B'Elanna, his spitting cobra, and nods feebly. He hopes that Chell isn't as good at picking up on lies as B'Elanna is. Chell seems to believe them as he helps Ayala place a restraining bar at the top of the turbolift doors. B'Elanna stands and Tom stands up after her, clutching their clothes in his hands and leaning against the turbolift. The rush of kissing B'Elanna, getting caught by Ayala, and then swiftly standing makes him dizzy. He supposes the small turbolift has something to do with it as well. He tosses first their clothes up to the deck and then their boots all one at a time. Chell sets these aside and reaches down for B'Elanna. Tom interlaces his fingers at the entrance and lets her use his shoulder for balance as she steps into them. He hoists her body up so Chell and Ayala can grab her arms and back to pull her over. She scrambles up the turbolift shaft until she's safely on the deck. Chell and Ayala turn to Tom next. They each brace one hand against the turbolift's doors and reach one hand down to him. He grasps each arm with one of his own. They grasp him as he leans backwards and plants his foot on the wall of the turbolift shaft. He climbs up with their pulling and easily rolls onto the deck. 

"You two okay?" Ayala asks finally. He's looking suspiciously at Tom. Tom doesn't like his accusing look, like he forced anything out of B'Elanna. _She's the one who took her shirt off for christ's sake!_ But he isn't about to blurt that at Ayala now. Chell is still very much in earshot. He isn't paying them any mind since he's helping B'Elanna separate their clothes. Tom thinks Chell is really looking for evidence of fraternization in the pile, but he bites that back as well. 

"Just a little shaken up is all." He drifts to the pile of clothes that he notes as his. B'Elanna looks up at him briefly but then busies herself with putting on her deep blue blouse. _Gods, she looks good in blue._ He slips into his tank, tucks it into his pants, and then pulls on his plain gray v-neck. It's getting a little tight on him since he'd started going to the gym with Harry, but he doesn't mind since it makes B'Elanna look at him like _that_. Thankfully, she looks away and slips into her sandals before Chell notices anything. Tom stoops to pull on his vans with one hand each. B'Elanna touches his shoulder when he stands. 

"I think you should get yourself checked out by the Doc. You got pretty bad down there." She pats his shoulder twice. He wonders if she'd have said she was worried if Chell wasn't there to hear her. She goes down the hallway toward her quarters. _I wonder when she'll use a turbolift again. I know I won't be for a while.... Unless I know she'll be in it with me._ He smiles dumbly at what they had been doing just moments ago. His head swims. _Maybe I really should see the Doctor._

"Chell, take care of this will you?" Ayala gestures to the turbolift. 

"You know, Ayala, I was just thinking about how we can avoid mishaps such as the one Tom and B'Elanna just found themselves in if we installed a notification device of some kind in the 'lifts. That way anyone trapped can easily call for help even when communications are down." Ayala nods dismissively at Chell. 

"Tell B'Elanna later if you remember to." Tom will remember to. He tucks Chell's suggestion into the back of his mind, filing it as 'important'. Ayala turns to Tom. "Walk with me, Tom," he says threateningly under his breath. Tom glances back at Chell to see if he hears. He doesn't appear to. 

"Sure, Ayala," Tom tries to sound carefree and without any worries. He figures sounding worried will make Ayala think worse of him. When they are a good few meters from the turbolift, Ayala pushes Tom against the bulkhead with an arm at his upper chest. Moving it up by an inch will probably cause Tom to suffocate. He isn't too keen on the idea since his ordeal in the turbolift. His back bangs painfully against the unforgiving, metal bulkhead. 

"How dare you do that to her!" Tom raises his hands defensively. 

"I swear, I didn't make her!" Ayala pressed against Tom harder. He quickly continues explaining, "she took her own shirt off, Ayala. And she could have gotten up if she wanted to. Please, believe me." He sneers. 

"We'll see what B'Elanna says." He releases Tom. He eyes him warily but realizes that Ayala is waiting for him to walk. A thought strikes him. 

"Do you like her?" 

"Like a sister, yeah." Tom lets out a breath because he definitely doesn't like B'Elanna like a sister. He wishes he'd pinned her to that turbolift wall and claimed her, claustrophobia be damned. Since Ayala found them, he is also glad that he hadn't. He doesn't want to face Ayala's brotherly wrath. He imagines Ayala would have told Chakotay too. Probably Harry even. And then all three would beat him to a pulp. _Well Harry would probably just keep watch...._ The thought comforts him somewhat. "You aren't thinking of going to see her now are you?" Ayala warns. Tom realizes they are stopped outside of Sick Bay, but that he hasn't turned for the door like Ayala expects him to. 

"No, I just wasn't paying attention." Ayala gestures dramatically for the door. 

"Do you need help?" Tom thinks Ayala would help him by severing his head from his shoulders. Tom shakes his head and walks into Sick Bay. 

"No need. Go do whatever it was you were doing." Ayala glares. Tom ignores him. "Computer, activate—" 

"I'm in my office, Lieutenant." Tom spots the Doctor walk out of his office. "What is it?" 

"B'Elanna and I got stuck in a turbolift. She said I should check with you. I may or may not have had a panic attack." 

"Well, which is it?" He asks indignantly. Tom walks to the biobed that the Doctor gestures to. 

"I had a panic attack I think." When he sits on the biobed, the Doctor scans a tricorder sensor over his head and torso. 

"Hmm, yes. I'm picking up increased concentrations of adrenaline and," he furrows his brow and looks at Tom, "oxytocin." 

"Is that normal?" 

"The adrenaline is." He closes the tricorder and puts the sensor back in its place. "But the oxytocin is out of place. Either you've just given birth or you cuddled with someone while in a stressful situation." Tom scoffs. 

"I think you'd be the first to know if I gave birth, Doc." 

"I believe you are correct. Well, as much as I'd like to keep you here to organize supplies," Tom winces, he hates organizing, "you are free to go. Nothing seems amiss. The excess hormones should leave your system in a few hours." Tom nods and hops off the biobed. He wants to talk to B'Elanna. 

"Thanks, Doc." 

"Any time, Lieutenant." Tom peeks his head out of Sick Bay to look for Ayala. He sighs a breath of relief when he doesn't see him. He walks to B'Elanna's quarters. Tom is surprised to see Ayala leaving her quarters when he gets there. Tom hides behind the corner and keeps an eye on them wishing that he could hear what they are talking about. B'Elanna smiles at Ayala and he feels a pang of jealousy before he reminds himself that Ayala thinks of her as his sister. Ayala heads in the other direction. When he's a good distance down the corridor, Tom emerges from his hiding spot and buzzes B'Elanna's door. B'Elanna opens the door herself. 

"Ayala, I appreciate your concern, but Tom didn't do—" She looks up at Tom. He smiles at her. 

"Tom didn't do what?" He sees the cogs turning behind her eyes. _Gods, she's beautiful when she's thinking._

"Tom didn't do anything wrong." She blushes and looks down. "Hi." 

"Hi yourself. May I come in? I wanna talk." She steps aside without looking up at him. He goes to her couch and has a seat. He notices a PADD on the couch next to him. He picks it up and looks it over. "What were you reading?" He expected it to be engineering reports but his eyes widen as he realizes it's a bodice ripper. _Wow, learn something new every day._ B'Elanna snatches it out of his hands and places it face down on the coffee table. 

"Just reports." He knows she's lying. He debates pushing her to admit it, but shakes his head. He has his own bodice ripper to resolve. She sits down across from him, folding her legs under her and leaning against the back of the couch. 

"About the turbolift. Thank you for, um," he feels his cheeks darken, "helping me relax." 

"Right...." She looks away from him at the coffee table. "Tom?" 

"Hmm?" She draws herself inwardly, curling into a ball on the couch with her body facing him except her face which is still turned toward the coffee table. 

"Can we just forget that anything happened?" _Forget? She wants to forget?_ The light feeling Tom didn't realize was hovering in his chest drops out. 

"I don't want to forget. B'Elanna?" He scoots forward and places a hand on her cheek to draw her eyes to him. He sees her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He feels aghast and half-wishes Ayala had beat him to a pulp earlier. "Did I hurt you?" He whispers. She shakes her head gently. 

"No." 

"Is there someone else?" He won't be happy if there is, but he wants B'Elanna happy even if it isn't with him. 

"Nobody." 

"Then why do you want to forget, hu?" He barely manages not to say hun and is glad that his mistake isn't picked up by B'Elanna. 

"I—" He notices how she's struggling. There's something she wants to say, something she's too scared to say. Then it hits him. _She's scared of me._

"Are you scared I will hurt you?" 

"Yes." She looks relieved to have him realize. _She probably can't say it herself curtesy her half-Klingon nature_, he thinks. "The rumors I heard about you—" 

"They don't matter." He brings his other hand to her cheek to cradle her face in his hands. "I like you, B'Elanna. I won't ever hurt you intentionally." She studies his expression. He wonders what she's thinking right now. He'd kill for that kind of knowledge. She doesn't say anything. She untucks her legs and puts them to the side so that she can kiss him sweetly.


End file.
